Spring Is in the Air
by Laura Mayfair
Summary: Tom Zarek teaches Laura Roslin how to skip rocks across the lake on New Caprica.


According to Gaius Baltar, New Caprica was in the midst of the first burgeoning breath of springtime. Laura had serious doubts as to the veracity of that sentiment. Rain plodded its way down from the heavy cloud cover on a daily basis. The sky didn't seem capable of any hue other than a perpetual gray. The few trees that dotted the dreary landscape bore only a sparse display of stunted foliage. It certainly didn't feel like any spring that Laura Roslin had ever known.

But there _was_ sky, dismal though it may be. And sometimes streaks of sunlight pierced the unrelenting murkiness. The rushing sound of wind - real wind - whipped or billowed across the damp earth, the sound and feel so different from the static hum of the recycled air from _Galactica._

Laura took a leisurely jaunt almost every morning before heading to the school, whether rain or shine. Today was not a school day and the cloudy sky was still making up its mind as to whether or not it would open up.

Decidedly optimistic about the weather, Laura had opted to leave her raincoat back at her tent. She made her way across the path that she knew well by now, stopping only when she reached the familiar lake. The limpid water was one of the few pristine things about New Caprica, so clear that she could see to the very bottom. Laura hiked up a small hill to her favorite rock and sat down, book in hand, to read.

The book was pretty terrible. In fact, Laura was just thinking about what a tragedy it was that such a craptastical piece of tripe had survived the apocalypse while so many other great works had been lost, when she heard the familiar voice of Tom Zarek. He swore loudly as his boots skidded on a patch of mud and he tumbled forward a little, nearly landing in the dirt mere feet away from Laura.

"Serves you right, Mr. Zarek," she informed him as he shuffled over to her.

Tom's grin was wide, easily reaching his eyes."Good morning to you, too, Miss Sunshine."

"This book you recommended is so unbelievably bad that I'd actually consider throwing it in the lake if we couldn't make better use of the paper."

His giddy laughter was cut short when the very book that was the topic of discussion was flung straight in the direction of his dark-haired head.

He dodged - barely.

"You've fallen even lower in my estimation than you were previously," Laura told him tersely. "You have horrendous taste in novels. Stick to non-fiction."

"It's an awful book," agreed Tom.

"I know I'm going to regret asking but - why are you inflicting bad literature on me? That's low. Even for you."

Tom shrugged. "So you'd talk to me today. Once you get lost in a good book, I don't have a shot in hell of getting a word out of you."

"I don't speak to people who break the basic code of book lending good faith."

"Technically, I didn't lend it to you. I _recommended_ it."

"Semantics," argued Laura.

"Not really. There _is_ a distinction there." Tom smirked at her and that little dimple on his left cheek showed. "I did get you to talk to me," he added softly as he sat down next to her.

"Your obnoxious idiocy isn't something that should be a source of pride."

Truth be told, though, Tom wasn't so terrible to share her quiet little spot with. They usually sat in companionable silence, Laura curled up with one of her novels and Tom absorbed in a favorite philosophy book. He was well read. She had to give him that. And he generally respected the unspoken but very basic law of not interrupting her while she was reading.

"So you made me read _Blood Song_ because you were lonely?" asked Laura. Her voice dripped with pointedly false empathy.

As he listened to her, Tom stood up and walked a few steps toward the lake. In a motion that surprised Laura with how singularly graceful it was, he tossed a small rock he must have been holding toward the water. It skimmed and skipped easily across the surface.

"Desperately so," said Tom with a melodramatic air.

Laura didn't really hear him. "My dad used to do that," she said absently, her eyes focused in the distance across the lake.

Tom plucked another rock from the ground and handed it to Laura.

"I'm awful at it," she told Tom as she took the small stone and proceeded to hurl it at the water.

"That's because you're so impatient," said Tom. "You can't just lob it at the water like that. Come here. First of all, what you need is a very flat stone," he explained as she stepped toward him. He picked up another stone, wiping the mud off with his fingertips. He put it in her palm and placed a hand on her waist, shifting her so that she stood directly in front of him while he was behind her.

Taking her hand in his, Tom guided her fingertips around the stone as he explained to her how to hold it. "Thumb on one side. Yes, just like that. Middle finger on the other." His voice seemed to lower ever so slightly. "Legs apart more."

Laura turned her head to the side and shot him a dubious look.

Tom chuckled. "No, really. This is for science."

"I've heard that one before, Mr. Zarek." Laura obeyed, nonetheless, shifting her stance to be more in line with his recommendation.

"Trust me," said Tom. With one hand pressed lightly against her waist and the other guiding her hand, Tom continued to adjust her body. "We have to find just the right angle. About 20 degrees will do it. Any less and friction slows the whole thing down."

"Friction?"

"Get your mind out of the gutter, Roslin. This is physics."

Laura giggled, completely messing up the position that Tom had gotten her into.

"You're not making this easy, you know," laughed Tom. The wind caught Laura's hair and it blew against his cheek. He realigned her body for a second attempt, brushing against her rib cage as he reached for her hand.

Laura couldn't help herself. She dissolved into a veritable torrent of laughter.

"Don't do that!" she squealed, a little breathless, between giggles.

"I barely touched you," said Tom, joining in her laughter.

"I'm ticklish."

"Yes. I noticed." He shook his head. "You _are_ utterly hopeless at this."

"All right. All right," said Laura, regaining her composure. "I can do this." She cleared her throat. "Do me….I mean...fix me."

Tom's fingers went lax against the stone in between their intermingled fingertips. He released it and let it fall against the sand. His arms wrapped around Laura's waist instead, and he pulled her back against his chest, all pretense gone. Neither of them uttered a word. They stood like that for a few moments, unmoving. Tom rocked her back and forth, a soft, gentle swaying motion. Laura found herself moving with him.

She closed her eyes. The wind was cool but Tom was warm. Very warm and very close. She realized, with a stunning sharpness of clarity, how much she had come to genuinely like this man.

Maybe Baltar was right - perhaps there really was some strange semblance of spring in New Caprica after all.


End file.
